Disquiet
by waterwitch22
Summary: Sometimes, even when defeated, evil leaves a trail of darkness behind. A multi-chapter fic exploring the boundless fear planted in a witch's heart. Rated M to be safe.
1. Prologue

**Here's my first attempt at a multi-chapter piece. I will be using components of the books, as well as the movies. I want to try and take this to the darkest place I can reach and I hope that the few readers I have will be willing to take this journey with me. I love the world of magic, because it reaches into unfathomable heights, depths and can be taken in so many directions. I promise to try to the best of my ability to keep everyone in character. This is a journey for you as it is for me. Here we go. On with it!**

**I do not own the people or places in the Harry Potter Universe.**

She could hear muffled voices, footsteps around her, shuffling beside her, the sliding of sheets, ghostly echoes through the abyss she floated in. Her head ached, a persistent dull throb, beginning at her ears and meeting just between her eyes. Her stomach burned and her mouth watered as the bile slowly began to rise in her throat. She could hardly move, her limbs felt heavy, as though they themselves were made of lead. She tried to scream, but found her body entirely too weak to even try to make the effort.

A thin shaft of light began to grow, although blinding her temporarily, she was happy to see it. It meant she was here. She wasn't dead. Why would she fear that she were dead? Why would that thought enter her mind? She opened her dry mouth to speak, her voice coming out in a croak, no intelligible words, just a moan. Just a confirmation that she had a voice, she was alive and she could speak. She tried to move her arms only to be met by a physical resistance. Her arms; were they tied down? Was she being restrained? Quickly regaining focus, she looked around. She was in a bed, in a room. The room wasn't hers, where was the green border, where were the sheer green curtains? The mattress was hard, it wasn't hers. Where was she? A white washed ceiling. A large window framed by heavy gray curtains. A plain wooden door with a small window of frosted glass. Monitoring devices. A tray of potions set on a table by the door. Printed on one of the bottles was an emblem she recognized. A wand crossed with a bone. _St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries._ She was in St. Mungo's. Trying not to panic, she attempted to speak.

"He…help…help me," her voice was weak, almost unrecognizable.

"Hermione?" He was by her side in an instant. He had been off to the side, where she could not see him. He stood over her taking one of her hands, which she could barely move. She had in fact been restrained. His messy black hair looked as though he'd be raking fretful fingers through it. His bright green eyes were troubled and filled with questions.

"Harry? Harry, what am I doing here? What happened?" She asked, her head throbbing, her clouded mind racing.

"You're okay. Just relax, give your head a moment to clear," Harry spoke softly leaning over her. He held his wand in his right hand. 'At the ready.' He glanced furtively at the door and leaned in, speaking in a near whisper. "You're on the fourth floor."

"Spell damage. I've been hit with a curse? What happened to me? Where's Ron?"

"Ron can't be here right now. You were stunned. You were stunned three times in the fight."

"Fight? Harry, what fight?" She asked, her panic rising, her heart pounding. "Who did I fight with and where's Ron? Why can't he be here? I want to see him."

"Hermione, listen to me, you can't see him. You're in…protective custody. We had to restrain you."

"WHAT HAPPENED?" Her panic reached its peak and she needed to know what had happened to her. She attempted to pull her arms free, but the restraints would not give. Something terrible had happened, her mind was completely unable to recall what landed her in the hospital. "Harry, where is Ron and why can't he be here with me?"

"He was here, being treated in this ward too. Listen to me Hermione. The Ministry won't let you see each other. Something happened tonight and they're going to question you. Ron already gave a statement, after they treated him and he was sent home."

"Harry, who attacked us?"

"No one. No one attacked you. It was a fight between you and him. We confiscated your wand until further notice."

"Oh god, Harry…please…"

"Hermione, you have to try and remember something. You're in trouble." He looked pained. He was preparing to say something he never thought he'd say. Her tears already began falling, shadows of her ordeal earlier already returning to her foggy memory. As her consciousness wore on, she already knew. It was becoming all the more clear. The reality of what landed her in St. Mungo's was far worse than any nightmare she had ever had.

"Hermione, he had to defend himself. Ron had to stun you three times."

"No Harry. Don't…"

"You tried to kill him."

**A/N: There we have it. A beginning. I have something stewing here and I hope you will bear with me. I have time on my hands so I will update as often as I can. Reviews are appreciated but I'm not forcing any of you. As always, be constructive, this is entertainment and nothing more. I hope this is the beginning of something…well…something. Love!**


	2. Stone & Blood

**Warning: There is ugliness in this chapter. It gets dark. I need to write something fluffy just to wash this one out. ;)**

**I do not own Harry Potter or any associated characters or places.**

_6 years ago – 1998_

Hermione slipped the locket of Slytherin around her neck, having just demanded it from an irritable Ron. She instantly felt the horrible weight, holding her down, mind, body and soul. Initially, the locket only filled her with annoyance. She'd see Harry and want to kick his teeth in.

'_Boy who lived indeed. I've put everything about myself second. Ron and I would have something by now, but no, here we are, camping out, eating rubbish, no real plans. I've done everything. Absolutely everything! I have to figure out how to destroy this damn locket. You're too busy staring at that damn broken piece of glass or holding that damned snitch. You're leading us on this fool's mission with no idea what the next move is. I wish I'd never come with you. I wish I'd never met you, Harry Potter.'_

She'd see Ron and flat out want to kill him.

'_You big orange haired git. You completely useless coward. You lazy, talentless, ignorant fool. To think I ever fancied you. You can't do anything! You complain about my cooking, you complain about the cold, you complain about everything. Harry and I have no chance if we're trying to keep you alive. You damned fool; you even went and got yourself splinched! Now we have to walk everywhere! And look at you, listening to that wireless, for any word on your blasted family. They're better off without you! WE'RE better off without you! Ron Weasley, I wish you were dead!'_

Her thoughts were so venomous that she shivered at them. When they got that violent, she'd pull the locket off and slip it into her pocket. It made little difference, but at least it wasn't hanging around her neck. Hermione was able to use her will to push the venom down but it seemed as though the locket managed to switch tactics. Instead of poisoning her as it did Harry and Ron when they wore it, it instead chose to scare her.

The first instances were rather small, beginning with tiny movements in the corner of her eye, just out of her field of vision. At night when she could hardly get herself to sleep, she'd feel Ron's eyes trained on her, only to find him fast asleep when she looked at him. She was able to dismiss those instances as wishful thinking. She liked when he stared at her, after all. His blue eyes excited her. Sometimes her blood would rush when she caught him; she could see a fleeting look of lust in his eyes. Since it never happened, she appreciated the feeling of being desired. But eventually she'd catch a glint of hate in his eyes. It only happened when she wore the locket.

Once when she took watch, she stood lookout at the mouth of the tent and she heard him call her name. That instance was the first time, she began to find herself truly afraid. The incident was particularly unnerving. She was sitting, cross legged on the ground outside, working to decipher the runes in the book bequeathed to her by Professor Dumbledore.

"Hermione!" Ron's voice called to her from within the tent.

"You have to come out here, Ronald! I'm keeping watch!" Honestly what made him think that she was going to drop what she was doing to run to him? She hated that she fancied him and was tired of breaking her back to appease him. She shuffled uncomfortably, the chain of the locket making her delicate skin itch.

"There's nothing going on out there, I have to show you something." She'd heard him shuffling about in the kitchen area.

"Ron, unlike you I tend fully to my responsibilities! If you have to show me something, bring it out here."

"FUCKING COME IN HERE!"

She'd jumped at the malice in his voice. While they argued a bit, Ron had never yelled at her. Not like that. Her jaw quivering with a mixture of anger and fear, she peered into the tent. She couldn't see him, but had noticed movement at the beds. He'd sat in his bunk, barely discernible in the growing shadows of the evening. His back had been up against the metal rails of his bunk, his knees were bent upwards, his forearms resting on his knees. His head was down but his eyes were trained on her. She was hardly able to make him out in the shadows, but she could tell by his build, he was watching her.

He'd spoken softly now and she'd strained her ears to hear him. "Come sit with me. I have to talk to you."

Taking one step toward his prone form, she spoke, "Ron, I-"

"Hermione?" Her head turned rapidly towards the direction of Harry's voice. He'd come walking into the small clearing where their tent stood. To her horror, she'd realized then and there that Harry had gone to pick some apples at an orchard that they had spotted, scouting the area in order to set up camp. Walking behind him with about a half dozen red apples in his good arm was Ron.

"Ron…you…you went with him?" She looked back at the beds to find them empty, no evidence that anyone had been seated on Ron's bunk.

"Yeah, we thought you needed space. We were so low on food, everyone was a bit…short." Ron said, shrugging.

"Yeah, we've got plenty of food now. At least for a day or two. Hope you won't get sick of apples." Harry gestured toward the countless apples in his arms, Ron couldn't bring back many since his splinched arm was still healing, but they'd decided he would go with Harry to put distance between her and Ron, who'd been snapping at each other back and forth.

They'd walked past her into the tent and resumed whatever discussion they were having while gathering the fruit. Was she seeing things? She certainly wasn't hearing things. Looking around at the trees, looking for any strange movements or shapes, she attempted to rationalize what had just occurred moments ago. She didn't believe that she was hallucinating, it had all just been too clear. He was there! He was looking at her! She sat down, taking several deep breaths in an effort to slow her pounding heart. "It was nothing…Hermione, it was nothing…"

"Hermione." She jumped and yelped at the hand on her shoulder. Ron was kneeling down beside her. "I was calling you. Where are you right now?"

"I'm sorry. I was…I'm tired is all, Ron. What is it?"

"That's why I'm out here, I'm relieving you. You should eat and go to sleep."

"It's not time yet, I have another hour."

"Yeah well, you don't look so good, so just go in."

She collected her book and her wand and stood up. She moved to duck into the tent when he grabbed her arm. Eyes fixed on her, he whispered, "I'm gonna break his neck while you sleep."

"What?" She jerked violently away from him.

"You shouldn't have that on your neck while you sleep. The locket. Give it to me. It'll fuck up…I mean, it'll mess up your sleep. Give it here." He held out his hand, looking slightly hurt and shocked at her reaction to him.

"Yes, alright." She could barely breathe, reaching into her jumper and pulling the locket over her head. She handed it to him, eyes never leaving his face. "Ron are you feeling alright?"

"I was." He chuckled slipping the locket's chain over his head. "Now that I've got my old friend, I'm back to normal. Get some rest, Hermione. You look really strained."

"Thanks. See you in a bit."

"Yeah." He sat down to begin his watch, his back to her.

She entered the tent, her back straightening, her mood becoming lighter. She couldn't believe it; the horcrux had gone from playing on her irritations and insecurities to outright scaring her. This was a strange and mostly unknown bit of magic, but Hermione marveled at how far the scrap of Voldemort's soul would go to deter them in their mission. Grabbing an apple, Hermione, continued deciphering her book, more desperate to find a way to destroy this horrible thing before it destroyed them.

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Hermione had grown to expect the scares, after some time. She found that the only time she found herself afraid of him was while wearing the locket around her neck. When Harry wore it, he grew short tempered and mean, expecting her and Ron to simply have it all figured out. The horcrux made him demanding and arrogant, a far cry from the kind person she and Ron had come to love. When Ron wore it, he was either brooding and mean, or just a big baby. The food was disgusting, the tea tasted like piss, and they were getting nowhere; those were his normal arguments. If he wasn't behaving like that, he just sat quietly, eyeing her and Harry suspiciously, his face dripping with contempt. It wasn't hard to see that he'd suspected something was going on between her and Harry. It annoyed her that he had so little faith in her, but she knew it was the horcrux doing that to him. It also turned her on to know that he was jealous. If he was jealous, then he fancied her. When she wore it, she became emotional over her parents or she grew jumpy, avoiding Ron at every turn. Sometimes the three of them discussed the horcrux and what it was doing to them, Ron conveniently omitting his jealousy and Hermione keeping out the parts where she'd imagined that Ron had been threatening to kill her and Harry.

Ron's spectral menacing had ended when he left following his row with Harry. It seemed that the locket didn't have much work to do on her at this point anyway. She was heartbroken and despondent. He'd left her. He abandoned them. She and Harry tried to accomplish something, anything with Ron gone, but they'd hit a dead end. They were both exhausted, in mournful moods when Harry had tried to make her feel better.

She sat in the tent listening to the wireless for any word on Ron. Was he dead? Was he hiding? What if he was hurt or hungry or cold? She just wanted him back. Harry had stood before her, changing the station on the wireless, to a music channel. He pulled her up, smiling kindly and slipped the locket off of her. Placing it down, he grabbed her and began to dance. He wasn't very good, but he tried his best. She enjoyed dancing with Ron as she had at Bill's wedding, he wasn't a good dancer either, but she liked to watch him, so it was fun. She realized that thinking about Ron wasn't helping so she decided to shut it off for as long as she could. Eventually, she lost herself in the song and twirled about in the tent with Harry, laughing at the fleeting moment of happiness Harry had given her. When the song ended, she pulled away from Harry, giving him a weak smile and resuming her place back in front of the wireless. She changed the station back, silently scolding herself, 'I could have missed his name. What would he think? Me dancing in here with Harry, like I was happy about him being gone.' She and Harry didn't do very much talking for the rest of that night. He stared at his snitch trying to understand its message and she alternated between reading her book and listening to the wireless for any news, good or bad.

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She was in her bunk trying to sleep, locket around her neck, Harry keeping watch outside, when he came back to her.

She faced the canvas dozing in and out of sleep when she felt the bed compress at her feet. A hand slowly snaked up her leg over the covers. Her breath hitched in her throat. 'What is Harry doing? It may just be the two of us out here, but I don't want this.' Turning herself toward her visitor, she was shocked to find it was Ron hovering over her, supported by his arms. She choked on her words as he leaned down, soft lips brushing her ear. He swept his tongue over her earlobe and placed a kiss just behind her ear, in a spot that caused goose bumps to break out on her arms.

"Hi."

"You're back."

"I'm sorry I left."

"I needed you, Ron. I need you now." She would have continued had his lips not stopped her. He kissed her fully, softly nipping at her bottom lip, his tongue coaxing its way into her mouth, briefly meeting with her own. His lips left her mouth, making his way to her neck, his left hand rubbing her ribs through her shirt, while he held himself up with his right. She wrapped her arms around his neck in an effort to pull his full weight down onto her. His kisses moved up from her neck up to her ear, his breathing heavy.

"I saw you."

"Saw me what?" She asked through her blissful haze.

"With him. I saw you dancing."

She froze. She stopped breathing, she didn't dare to. He moved up; hovering over her, blue eyes boring into hers.

"I saw you, smiling. Happy. I was finally gone and you two could finally have your moment. Like you always wanted."

"Ron, that's not true. What you saw…it was nothing. We weren't celebrating. He was trying to cheer me up. You have to believe me, there's nothing between us."

"Oh, I beg to differ. There's something between you. There has ALWAYS been something between you. And I know DAMN WELL that you two would have found a way eventually." There was no hurt in his eyes, only contempt. She'd never seen him so angry. She'd never seen him so enraged.

"No Ron. I swear to you. Harry and I are friends. Nothing more. He's like a brother to me." He smiled at her. He didn't believe her. "Ron I mean it. Ask him. He'll tell you, he'll tell you how miserable I've been without you. Ask him!"

"I'd like to. But I can't. Not anymore." He sat back against the foot bars of her bunk, eyes never leaving hers.

"Where's Harry? Ron, where is he?"

"Oh, he's outside. We, uh, talked already."

In a panic, Hermione launched herself from her bunk to the mouth of the tent.

"Leaving so soon?" Ron asked, not moving from his spot.

Exiting the tent, Hermione stopped dead in her tracks. Her breath caught in her lungs, lying on the ground was Harry, his blood pooling around his head, a large stone just lying beside him covered in blood as well. His skull had been bashed in. It was a scene of savagery. She backed up, only to slam into something solid behind her. Before she could react his arms were around her and his lips were at her ear.

"You should know by now, I've gotten real tired of sharing. And I hate when people take what I want."

She could hold her sobs no longer and barely resisted as he pulled her back against his body. This didn't make sense, her mind screamed, Harry was his best friend. How could this happen? This would never happen. The world began to spin around her as he began to speak again.

"Well, it's all over now, he's coming. And this shit'll soon be over. All I have to do is call him. All I have to do is say his name."

"Ron…Ron no!'

"Voldemort."

Streaks of black filled the sky in that instant. They had come. It was over.

"No Ron, oh god, no! NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"

"HERMIONE!" She bolted up in her bunk, covered in sweat, limbs flailing, now in a complete panic. Her vision gone, only to be replaced by red.

"Hermione, stop! Hermione." The red, dulled and the world around her became a muted gray. Arms were around her, rubbing her back, keeping her from thrashing about. "Hermione stop. You were dreaming. It was a dream." Harry held her, whispering soothing words as her breathing slowed and her mind resettled back into consciousness.

"Harry…oh god…"

"What was it? What did you dream?"

"We failed. We lost everything. That's all. We'd lost everything." It wasn't a complete lie but she didn't have the heart to tell him that she dreamed that he'd just been murdered by his best friend. He didn't push her on the matter any further. A nightmare was a nightmare and there were no rules in that realm; he'd had his share, so he left it alone.

After she calmed down, Harry made her a cup of tea and he told her that he'd wanted to go to Godric's Hollow, that he had a feeling and wanted to go. With a new plan, Harry and Hermione packed the tent and continued on their journey, both hoping that somehow along the way they'd find Ron and be whole again.

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After that nightmare, this thing's spectral visits only came in the form of shadows and disembodied voices. She'd decided to call it "the thing," she would no longer call it Ron, Ron would never hurt her or Harry like that. She wanted nothing more than to destroy the locket, for she believed with all of her heart that these terrors stemmed from the locket, itself. She and Harry were in the Forest of Dean, regrouping after a disastrous stop at Godric's Hollow. While they'd found the graves of Harry's parents, they also were attacked by Voldemort's pet snake, Nagini, who'd fooled them into a corner by posing as a long dead Bathilda Bagshot. Not only were the two of them nearly killed, but Hermione had accidentally broken Harry's wand, a fact that caused morale between the two to fall lower than she'd thought possible. He'd had little to say to her, in fact and stood watch at the mouth of the tent while she lied down to take a nap. Harry had taken the locket and put it on before stepping outside, a decision that left Hermione infinitely grateful as her already low spirits would have guaranteed another nightmare.

She'd been resting for over an hour when she heard Harry calling her name. She had exited the tent to discover that not only had Ron returned, but he'd also had the sword of Gryffindor and the locket had been destroyed! While she wanted to throw her arms around him and beg him to never leave her again, she instead attacked him, throwing leaves, rocks and a few choice words at him. He told her of how the deluminator had led him back to them, using a light and the sound of her voice, but she wasn't ready to forgive him for abandoning them the way he did. All she could think was, if he'd been here, that thing would not have attacked her in her dreams, that thing would not have given her visions of a murdered Harry. Had he still been here, she would not have spent so much time being assaulted by her worst fears. But she knew it was the horcrux that had tested and tormented them so horribly.

That horcrux, that filthy piece of Voldemort's soul had plagued the three friends with melancholy, doubt and hate for weeks and now it was gone. Ron had destroyed it using the sword and now they had one less problem to deal with. Harry had indicated that something happened beyond those trees with Ron and the locket, but he would not tell her what it was. "That's something Ron has to tell you himself," he'd answered when she begged him to tell her what happened.

For the briefest moment things were quiet between the friends, Harry was back to studying his snitch and the broken mirror piece, Ron was back to making bad jokes and trying to get on Hermione's good side, and Hermione was back to being the dependable scholar who refused to forgive Ron, at least for a few more days, until he learned his lesson.

Little did they know they'd experience torture, blood, death, grief and face down the other horcruxes in the coming days. Hermione, who was certain that the spectral menace had ended with the death of the locket, would discover that "it" followed, bound to her by the darkest of magic and the most malevolent of forces. While evil can sometimes be made dormant, it takes more than one strike to banish it from one's life. The initial contact, the smallest taste is all it needs to thrive, for its seeds have already been planted in the darkest recesses of the soul.

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**Coming up…**

"_Why are you doing this to me?"_

"_Because you deserve it. You deserve to hurt. It's not about your blood. I'm not going to call you a 'mudblood,' because frankly I don't give a shit how pure you're blood is. I'm only here to hurt you. I'm only here to make you scream."_

"_Why? What have I done to you?"_

"_Done to me? You didn't do anything…you were just around. Opportune moment, you see? And before you stab that little…cup, take into account, that won't get rid of me. You want to be done with me? You have to kill me. And if you want to kill me? You have to kill him."_

**AN: Chapter 2 done. Please bear in mind, regarding Hermione's nightmare, that's all it was…a nightmare, which means anything could happen, so I don't want any sh*t about Ron killing Harry, or anyone being out of character. It wasn't real, okay? There are NO rules in nightmares! **

**And please forgive me, but I had to address that damn "dance" scene. I remember watching it in the movie and leaning over to my friend in the theater and whispering, "this is bullsh*t, why is this even happening?" Of course, I know why it was written into the movie, but I skeeve that scene. It could have been something sweet between friends but it's the most misinterpreted part of that ENTIRE movie. Alright! Enough of that. **

**Review if you want. I respond to all reviews if permitted. Love!**


	3. Deluge

**As mentioned previously, I will be using components of the books, as well as the movies. As someone who has interest in magic, it always burned me up that Voldemort's dabbling in such dark arts could not have summoned something otherworldly. Such dark magic would surely call to the darkest of darks and there would definitely be some sort of attachment. And the repercussions would be greater than death. And sadly, those consequences tend to affect others who come into contact with that kind of magic. Even the most innocent. **

**Something to ponder. What are devils? What are demons? Are they the same?**

**I do not own the people or places in the Harry Potter Universe.**

6 years ago – 1998

Hermione was hardly content, but there was calm within her. There was a silent confirmation that something good had just transpired. Ron had returned, the horcrux was destroyed and the trio was whole again. The sound of wind and waves was all Hermione could make out at the moment, her head pounded, her eyes burned from crying and her left arm burned as though it were on fire. She mutely surveyed the room she was resting in. She was in Shell Cottage, in Bill and Fleur's bedroom; she was placed here to rest following the torture she suffered at the hands of the deranged Bellatrix Lestrange.

They had just buried Dobby, the kindly house elf who had miraculously appeared to aid them in their escape from Malfoy Manor. He had given his life in the end, a sacrifice that saved seven lives. In Hermione's mind, there was no reward on earth or in heaven that could even measure up to the magnitude of such a deed. She grimaced as a fresh wave of tears rushed from her. She released everything she could feel, sadness for poor Dobby, elation because she and her friends had escaped Bellatrix and anger at the brand that been left on her skin by the deranged witch.

She ran her fingers over the bandage on her arm, beneath it burned the wound left on her during her torture. A dark gift given to her, forged in dark magic, a brand of what Voldemort, his death eaters and their sympathizers saw her as. _Mudblood._ Something dirty. Something to be trampled beneath superior feet. The mark was sure to scar, she knew that much, she knew that something forged in such hatred could not be simply sponged away. This was a mark she would live with for as long as she continued.

There was a soft knock at the door. Who would it be this time? Last time it was Harry, checking in on her, asking her what had happened to her while he and Ron were locked in the cellar. It was then that she told him and Ron what occurred, they deserved to know. Ron stiffened as she told them of her ordeal, so deeply affected by the thought that she was being tortured, no amount of comfort could be offered, and nothing could placate his guilt.

"Come in."

Another soft knock.

"Come in! It's open!"

They knocked harder.

*Knock* *Knock* *Knock*

She stood up from the bed, her irritation increasing with her curiosity, and walked to the door.

"Who is that?"

As she reached the door, the knocking became a furious hammering, the door shaking with the impact. Hermione jumped back, yelping in shock as the door continued to shake, whoever was on the other side continued the banging. She held out her hand, reaching for the knob, the banging stopping as her hand touched the knob.

"Who is that?" She whispered.

"It's me." It was his voice. Ron's voice. Softer than usual, almost sing song, yet she was sure it was Ron. It had to be. "Can I come in? I wanted to make sure you were alright."

"Ron?"

"Hermione Jean, won't you let me come in?"

Turning the knob, she slowly opened the door. There was no way it wasn't Ron. She began to rationalize what had just transpired. He banged on the door in some attempt at a prank, inappropriate yes, but he simply wanted to lighten the mood. As she pulled the door fully open, her blood turned cold in her veins.

There was no one there. The lights were on and she could hear soft voices down in the sitting room and kitchen, carrying on conversations, making plans and providing comfort. She peered down the stairs only to see Dean walking past, toward the kitchen.

"Dean?"

"Hey! What are you doing up? Fleur's getting ready to bring some dinner up to you and a little something to help you sleep."

"Was anyone up here just now? Was Ron up here?"

"No. No one's up there. Mr. Olivander and Griphook are resting in the other rooms, but no one's up there. Do you want me to get Ron for you?"

Without answering, Hermione walked back into the bedroom, shutting the door behind her. Numbly she sat on the end of the bed, her mind swirling, and her heart racing. There was no way It could be back. The locket was gone, the horcrux destroyed. It could not have been attached to her person. There was nothing wrong with her. There was nothing she ever did to bring this upon her. Even with her thirst for knowledge, she made it a point to avoid dark books with incantations and summoning spells. What was happening to her? Why was this happening to her?

The night went on without further incident. Fleur brought her dinner, Ron and Harry came in to check on her and begin planning their next move. They'd decided to break into Bellatrix's vault at Gringott's in order to get the next horcrux. After that, they'd let Voldemort lead the way. His link to Harry was sure to provide for them their next move and they'd take it from there. That was their plan. Again Hermione told neither Ron nor Harry about visitation. She would keep this to herself for the time being, holding on to the hope that it was a product of her stress and would peter out with time.

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They took another day at Shell Cottage to mend themselves and rest in relative safety. The next day was a blur, as they had broken into Gringott's and into the vault of Bellatrix Lestrange. Back in the wilderness, regrouping after nearly being captured, nearly burned to death and nearly ripped to shreds on the back of a dragon, they'd decided to return to Hogwarts.

Harry told them that he was able to see that the next horcrux was there. They had lost the sword of Gryffindor at the hands of Griphook and they were now stuck with the horcrux in Helga Hufflepuff's Cup. They'd hoped that perhaps there was a way to destroy the cup at Hogwarts. While the cup did not affect them in the same fashion as the locket, there was a darkness the emanated from it. Harry could hear the voice of Tom Riddle, Ron could only hear something of a dull hum, and Hermione could hear the faintest of whispers from it. They kept it in her beaded bag, and decided not to take it out until they had something that could dispose of it properly.

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The golden trio had returned to Hogwarts, Headmaster Snape had been defeated in a duel by Professor McGonagall and the battle lines were drawn. The Death Eaters were coming and the showdown between Lord Voldemort and Harry Potter was inevitable. Ron had come up with the idea to get into the Chamber of Secrets to find basilisk fangs, as the venom in them would still be potent and thus, would be able to destroy the horcruxes.

Ron and Hermione entered the girl's lavatory and, standing at the sink, Ron pulled on his memories in an attempt to remember how to shape his mouth and curve his tongue to properly mimic Harry's use of parseltongue. After a few attempts, Ron had managed to open the Chamber, much to Hermione's surprise and elation. Entering the Chamber, Ron and Hermione walked hand in hand, not knowing what to expect ahead of them. Hermione had been petrified at the time and Ron had only made it so far. Even though the basilisk was dead, there was a small part of them that half expected the ungodly beast to slither out from the shadows and kill them both. Both were mystified by the spectacle that lie ahead of them, the smooth stone sculptures, the massive, looming face of Salazar Slytherin, the horrifying skeletal remains of the legendary beast that slithered beneath the castle.

Walking ahead, they knew they didn't even have a single moment to properly absorb that they were among a very few to have actually stood in the Chamber of Secrets. They needed to get those fangs and test Ron's theory about the venom. Ron walked ahead and kneeled at the corpse of the monster and reaching with great trepidation, pulled a single fang from the mouth. Hermione presented him with the cup but he stopped her.

"You do it. You haven't done one yet."

"I can't."

"Yes. You can."

Kneeling before the cup, basilisk fang in her hand, she glanced up at Ron, whose eyes were intently fixed on her, giving her a nod of encouragement. She raised the fang above her head, brown eyes peering deeply into the cup. Before her eyes it began to fill with water, rippling from the center, an indiscernible hissing emitting from the crystalline water.

"Hermione, don't hesitate. Believe me. You don't want to hesitate."

Once again, she raised the fang above her head and brought her arm down, however before her arm could come down onto the cup, the contents within it sprang forward in an infinite deluge of ice cold water. The water came out in waves, sweeping around her, a wall of water slamming into Ron and throwing him against a far wall.

"Ron!"

She stood frozen, eyes fixed on his crumpled form until the wall of water rose around her, effectively enclosing her in a wet and frozen prison. The cup began to vibrate, the water within it beginning to bubble as though it were boiling. Suddenly a swarm of bees sprang from the cup, the angry insects flying directly at her. Hermione screamed, covering her head with her arms and crouching low as the bees flew over her head and disappeared into the watery wall.

"Hermione! Listen to me! You have to stab the cup! You have to kill it before it does something else." Ron drew his wand, which he took from Peter Pettigrew, and pointed it at the wall of water. "Incendio!"

The wall hissed, reacting with the flames he conjured, but the flames made no impact. Noticing that the water appeared to be solid, he made an attempt to break through, "Diffindo!" Still unsuccessful, he yelled to her once again. "Hermione! I can't get to you! You have to destroy it!"

Regaining her bearings, she rose to her feet just in time to witness the cup's next defensive act. The water within the cup suddenly darkened in color, taking on a black, inky consistency, bubbling into a black sludge. The liquid bubbled over onto the ground, slowly rising into a human form. To her horror, the form began to clear until it took on the form of Ron. There were no deviations from the ginger haired man she'd grown to love. His eyes were blue and beautiful, his pale, almost translucent skin appeared warm, and his hair the vivid shade she'd always desired to run her fingers through. His face however bore no expression. Not a smirk, not a scowl, just a simple expression of indifference, almost as though he was bored. His eyes surveyed her coldly as he began to speak.

"I've wanted to get you alone for so long now." His eyes fixed themselves to the fang that he held up defensively. "What are you gonna do with that? You gonna kill me, love?"

"I'll do anything to finish this."

"Finish? What are you gonna finish? Love, I haven't even started." He crossed his arms over his chest, not at all fearful or intimidated by the dangerous weapon she wielded. "Well, what are you waiting for? Stab it. Let's get on with this. You may as well get rid of the thing, get this battle going, declare a winner and move on. I have so much more…work…I want to do with you."

"No, this will end you. You're a part of this. When I destroy the horcrux, you'll be gone."

"Will I now?" He moved to the side, clearing the way for her to reach the cup. "Shall I hold it up for you? Hold it steady? I'd love to make this easy for you."

It was mocking her, enjoying her fear and confusion. He sprang from the horcrux; logically this would mean he was part of it. But the horcrux was a conduit for fear, as well as a piece of Voldemort's soul.

"What are you?"

"You have no idea what I am. You have no idea what I want to do you. I've wanted you since the day I first saw you."

Hermione swallowed thickly, how long had she wanted Ron to tell her that he wanted her? But this wasn't right. This thing saying those words, using Ron's visage as a disguise, was vulgar.

"Who are you? Why are you doing this to me?"

"Me? Oh, I have so many names. You'll learn them soon enough. And as for 'why.' Well it's simple. I'm doing this because I want to. Because you deserve it. You deserve to hurt. It's not about your blood. I'm not going to call you a 'mudblood,' because frankly I don't give a shit how pure you're blood is. I'm only here to hurt you. I'm only here to make you scream."

"Why? What have I done to you?" She could hear Ron beyond the wall, calling her name, pleading with her to destroy the horcrux.

"Done to me? You didn't do anything…you were just around. Opportune moment, you see? And before you stab that little…cup, take into account, that won't get rid of me. You want to be done with me? You have to kill me. And if you want to kill me? You have to kill him."

"Where did you come from?"

Smiling, he simply pointed to his head, wordlessly tapping on his temple. Then in an instant he was upon her, pinning her on her back to the ground, his hands gripped her wrists, locking them above her head. The fang clattered out of her reach. "Your life is about to get very interesting, little girl."

Blinking his eyes, she cried out in horror as his blue eyed blacked out. Shiny, endless, darker than dark, he, it, her tormenter gazed beyond her eyes, into her very soul. With that he leaned into her and crushed her lips with is. His kiss was neither warm, nor pleasurable. She clamped her eyes shut as she felt something cold and thick running down the back of her throat, filling her chest with an icy cold, leaving her so full, yet so empty.

"See you soon, sweetheart."

Eventually the weight lifted from her. For a few seconds, she layed there, eyes tightly shut, not daring to breathe. Slowly opening her eyes, she realized that he was no longer there. The fang that had fallen from her hand rested just a few meters from her. Feeling faint, she pulled herself to her knees and crawled to the fang, gripping it in her hand; she raised it above her head and brought it down onto the cup with what small strength she had left. The wall of water began to swirl around her.

Climbing to her feet, she called out to Ron. Ron, seeing that the wall was no longer solid, steeled himself and running at full speed, leaped through the swirling wall. Wrapping his arms around Hermione, the ice cold tidal wave swept them about the chamber until it flushed out as violently as it came.

Ron and Hermione clung to each other, silently regaining their bearings. Loosening his grip on her, he looked down at her, arms steadying her as he helped her to her feet.

"You alright?"

"Yes. I think so."

"I wanted to get to you, but I couldn't get through the water."

"It's fine, Ron. Really it is." Her head throbbed; she pried herself from Ron's arms, and looked around the Chamber for any sign of the dark visitor that had confronted her only moments ago.

"Hermione! We have to get back! Grab as many fangs as you can. We've got to go."

Agreeing, she reluctantly pushed the experience to the back of her mind and helped Ron gather fangs and together they rejoined their friends, family and classmates in fighting for the world that Voldemort had been working to destroy. Yet, in the back of her mind, its words repeated themselves repeatedly… "Your life is about to get very interesting, little girl."

For the first time, Hermione began to wonder to herself, if this had anything to with the horcruxes at all. In his quest for immortality, had Voldemort released something even darker and twisted than himself?

Joining hands with Ron, Hermione resolved herself to two things; first, she would address this series of visitations if she survived the night and second, she would bear in mind that this was not about Ron. Even though it wore his face, it was not him. She knew Ron would never hurt her, but there was something that frightened her. It appeared as though this thing wanted her to hurt Ron…"if you want to kill me? You have to kill him."

**You have to kill him. **

The seeds were planted.

**AN: I used the bees as a sort of minor fear that Hermione could have. And, yes, I twisted the kiss. I should mention that I am an avid fan of the TV series "Supernatural" and this fic is inspired by the dark beings that the show's protagonists face regularly. The fic is also inspired by the silly use of dark magic for personal gain…it's astounding how it can remain, even when the cause of it all is gone, and how it can continue to turn lives upside down. Review if you'd like. I do respond and I am very nice. ;) As always, be constructive and mature…and I'll stay nice. **


	4. Solitude

_**Mad delay and I have a lame excuse. I just acquired a Nintendo Wii and in a fit of nostalgia, I've been playing Final Fantasy VI (FF III in the U.S.A.). Is it me, or were RPGs so much harder back then? Also, since this piece is dark, I've have a rough go over the past week as I have been in a great mood and it's hard to reach down a write something dark when you're happy. My apologies! : )**_

_**Here's a new chapter. A bit slower, but necessary.**_

**I do not own the people or places in the Harry Potter Universe.**

_4 days ago - 2004_

_She could only hear her ragged breathing around her. She ran through the empty halls, her footfalls echoing around her, bouncing off of the marble columns that surrounded her. Her heart pounded, slamming so hard she thought it would burst from her chest. _

'_Have to get to the atrium. To the fireplace. Floo out. He'll be on my tail. I just need a few seconds.'_

_*pant, pant* She could hear footsteps behind her. *pant, pant* Running. *pant, pant* Gaining on her. *pant, pant* He wasn't winded. _

_She glanced back, her frantic breaths coming out in exhausted puffs. He was smiling. His delighted grin mocking her terror. She was running for her life, but to him, it was a game._

_Rounding a corner, reaching the lifts, she threw herself in, unable to stop herself, she rammed against the wall inside the lift. She slammed the door shut, her fingers frantically pushing the button for the main floor. She'd heard the clicking and whirring of gears when he'd reached the lift. He'd slowed down to a walk, approaching her as she cowered in the corner, as far out of his reach as she could get. Flattening herself against the wall, she stared at him, brown eyes rounded in shock. He stood there watching her, blue eyes, cold and hard, trained on her. He hadn't broken a sweat; his breathing was even as he calmly surveyed her. His lips spread into a slow grin as the lift began to move back. As he shrunk from sight, she heard him utter one word._

"_Tricky."_

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Today - 2004

He had chased her a few times at the burrow. Once they had ran along the lake, through the rushes, giggling like children. He always caught her at the orchard, the two of them always falling in a tangled laughing heap. It had been a week since they'd won. Voldemort was gone and they were all free. She'd never wanted more badly then than, to have mindless fun. To be a young woman in love, teasing her eager boyfriend, begging him to catch her. She'd allowed herself to forget the terror. She allowed herself to rip her thoughts from the whispers in the dark when she lay alone. She allowed herself to forget his words, he was just getting started, he said. She's tried to believe that maybe, just maybe, this menacing terror had been part of Voldemort's game, that perhaps this had been a residual piece of his dark magic, something that would fade away with the dark lord's death.

Now she sat here, confined to a bed in St. Mungo's, her head still throbbing, still in recovery from the stunning spells she'd suffered at Ron's hand. Harry had convinced them to remove the restraints from her wrists, promising them that she wasn't a danger to anyone, or herself. During his last visit, he'd brought her a mirror as he took the time to list her injuries.

"_Sprained wrist, cracked rib, split lip, mild concussion."_

"_Ron?"_

"_Moderate concussion, cracked jaw, broken finger on his wand hand, two loose teeth."_

"_Is he alright now?"_

"_Fine."_

"_Does he miss me?"_

"_You know he does."_

"_Does he love me? Still?"_

"_He doesn't understand what happened. None of us do. But he loves you. Always has. I mean, of course, Hermione."_

"_Can I write him?"_

"_No owls at this window."_

"_Please give him a letter for me."_

"_And my job?"_

"_Harry! You're Harry Potter! They won't sack you. You're the great hero of the wizarding world. The public would never forgive them. You may as well use your hard earned reputation and do your best friend a favor."_

"_Write it, give it to me tomorrow."_

"_Thank you." _

They had to keep their conversations light and choppy, in the event that they were being listened to. Now she sat, waiting for another Senior Auror who had been assigned her case to come in and question her, as she had been questioned the previous morning by another Auror. Earlier in the morning a member of the Wizengamot had come in with a Court Scribe to take her statement, informing her that she was not under arrest at the moment. Ron had refused to press charges but the Ministry wanted to keep her in some form of protective custody until the matter was resolved.

She was restless, confined to a hospital suite on the fourth floor of St. Mungo's, kept from the outside world by powerful wards and locking spells. She'd been spending the last 2 days, since Harry practically begged the hospital to remove her restraints, pacing the room, chewing on her nails, running her shaking fingers through her tangled hair. Harry had only brought the mirror in to convince her to put herself together as she had looked a wreck. All mirrors and grooming tools had been removed because hospital and ministry officials were convinced that she'd hurt herself when she was first brought in. Harry had been allowed to bring a brush, comb and mirror to her during his brief visits, but he had to take them out when he left for the day.

She hated this. These rules. These restrictions. Being locked away like a criminal. She yelled at Harry in frustration yesterday.

"_If I want to kill myself, which I would never do, I have the right to!"_

She laughed bitterly at her words. Spoken out of frustration, they were words she'd regretted saying. She'd had enough, she wanted to be released. Ron wanted no charges, Harry had spoken up for her at every opportunity and her record would suggest that she was not a danger to anyone, in any form. She needed to get out and get to the bottom of what happened. What had driven her to raise her wand to Ron? How had this thing fooled her so completely? What happened?

"Ms. Granger?"

Hermione turned to the source of the voice. Standing at her door was the auror, a tall black man, with close cropped hair. He had been by to speak to her before. He had an authoritative air about him, which seemed to defy his age. He looked rather young.

"I'm Abel Mercer. I'm a Senior Auror. I specialize in mental attacks."

"Yes. Abel. I remember you."

"Good. I have just a few brief questions for you."

"Fine. Ask me whatever you want?"

She sat on her bed as he pulled up a chair beside her.

"Ms. Granger, how long have you known Ron Weasley?"

"Um, since I was eleven, right before my twelfth birthday, so…thirteen years? Yes, thirteen years."

"How well would you say you know him?"

"Very well. Better than I know myself."

"Would you consider your relationship with him volatile?"

"No. Well, it was. We argued a great deal growing up. But since we got together things have calmed down. We argue a bit, a small bit of bickering. We are happy, though."

"How long have you been with him? Romantically?"

"Six years. Three months. Eleven days."

"Have things ever escalated between you in the past? On this level?"

"Excuse me?"

"Ms. Granger, have you and Mr. Weasley ever been violent with each other?"

"NO! No, never. Ron would never hurt me. He would never, ever put his hands on me. Not to hurt me. He's always been so protective actually. He never cared how big or threatening anyone was. If they even implied that they would hurt me, he'd put himself between me and it. Without even thinking twice."

"Do you remember what happened?"

"Vaguely. Not too many details."

The questions continued for half an hour before he excused himself. He asked the same questions she had been asked before. There was nothing new to this. As he was leaving, Hermione rushed to his side.

"Mr. Mercer? Abel. When am I to be released? Will I be released?"

"Ms. Granger, that's not my decision. Someone will be by to discuss that with you."

"Will I be sent to Azkaban?"

"I don't know. I doubt it though. Weasley won't have it. Don't worry."

She was worried, however. She needed to see Ron. She needed to reach out to him. She wasn't sure of how he felt. That was something she desperately needed to know. She needed to be assured that there was no doubt. He needed to know that she loved him and she would never hurt him. Harry was sure to come back in the morning and she needed to get a letter to Ron.

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_Dear Ron,_

_There is little time for me to write this and I will keep this brief. I do hope that this letter reaches your hand. I hope you are well. As well as can be. Harry told me of your injuries. _

_Ron, I am so very sorry for what happened. _

_I know that you have questions and I assure you that there are answers. I don't have a complete understanding of the events that led up to this, and I know that perhaps I should have come to you with this when I knew that there was problem, but I was afraid. I was afraid for you. I was afraid for what you would think of me if I told you._

_But I will tell you now. Someone…no, something has been stalking me. Using your face and your voice. Using your body. It's been hurting me, while you've given me so much joy. For years now, it's been telling me to kill you. That killing you would be the only way to rid myself of the visitations. I refused to believe it, but this time, it confused me and I assaulted you. I am not angry at you. You defended yourself and I understand. I will tell everything. Every single detail. But I must see you. You can tell Harry about this, perhaps he can help you. Perhaps he can help us. _

_Ron, I love you. I love you more than anything in this world and I need you to trust me implicitly. No part of me is truly capable of harming you so greatly. Please believe that._

_All my love. _

_Always,_

_Hermione_

Folding the letter neatly, she handed it and the quill to Harry.

"Destroy this quill. They could charm it. Please, don't read it. There's so much I have to say, but I have to say these things to Ron first."

"Yeah, of course. I get it."

He turned to walk to the door, charming the tray holding her brush, comb and mirror to levitate out of the room. Rushing up to him, Hermione slid herself between Harry and the door.

"Harry, we've been friends for thirteen years. You have come first every time. Ron HAS to come first this time. I'm not hiding anything from you, but he has to know this first. If he tells you, that's his decision, but I need to give him the respect. Please understand."

"I understand."

Throwing her arms around him, she hugged him with all the strength she could gather.

"Thank you. Please trust me."

"I trust you."

Hermione slid to the side, allowing Harry to leave. Before walking out the door, Harry turned to her.

"I always trusted you. Don't doubt that. Ever. Also, I'm having you moved to your flat. You're in good health, your injuries healed and you don't have to be here."

"What? How?"

"I'm Harry Potter. A lot of people happen to owe me," he said with a wink, shutting the door behind him.

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_Coming up:_

"_You know what this is? You know about this?"_

"_Of course, I do, Granger. My aunt practiced the darkest of magic. It's no surprise that something crawled out of the hole she and the others opened. She was fucked up like that. And these things don't discriminate, they don't care. It picked you and you have to take it down. And there is no way, you're going to put it back in its hole alone. You simply can't do it. You're a bit too…lily white."_

"_Draco, what are you saying?"_

"_I'm saying you'll need my help."_

_**AN: That's it. Reviews are welcome. Constructive criticism and all that. I do respond to ALL reviews from registered users with PM enabled. Love!**_


	5. Pawns

**And I'm back. No delay this time. Last fic I wrote was supposed to be fun, but yeah…not doing that again. ;)**

**More meat to this one. And as indicated in the last chapter, someone we all know is now in the mix. **

**I do not own the people or places in the Harry Potter Universe.**

**On with it!**

"The ministry has ordered some protective enchantments placed around the flat. They took your fireplace off the floo network, I'm sorry about that but it's for the best."

Using his wand, Harry opened Hermione's door and stepped aside so she could enter.

"I cleaned up as best as I could, well Ron and Ginny helped."

Hermione looked around, noting that the mirror beside her front door was now gone, having been shattered after her body collided with it 5 days ago. A new set of curtains had been put up on her main window; the others were torn down probably thrown away. They were singed badly by a curse thrown by her own wand. The floors were cleaned, swept and mopped, the last time she had seen her floor she was crumbled on it, Ron sprawled only a few meters from her, around them a field of blood and debris.

"Ron was here?"

"Yeah he insisted. He needed to see it for himself. He broke down pretty badly when he got here. Ginny suggested we just repair and re-hang the mirror there, but Ron said that it should go out. Since it broke the way it did."

"Yes. I wouldn't have wanted it here. I see you cleaned the floor the muggle way."

He snickered lightly. "Yeah. It was therapy for us. Just to get on our hands and knees and clean it that way. We felt like the violence, anger, confusion…everything. We felt like it was being actually wiped away with the blood."

"Thank you for cleaning it. Thank Ginny too. I miss her."

"She's not angry, Hermione. She's just so confused."

"We all are."

Hermione could not help the fresh wave of tears that rushed from her. Wrapping her in a tight hug, Harry held her until she calmed herself.

"I can't take this, Harry, I can't. I want my life back. I want the quiet. I want Ron and I to get married, have 10 kids and forget this ever happened."

"10? Really? Bit much, I think. I mean Ginny and I just have James, but I don't think I'd survive 9 more of him."

Hermione laughed in spite of her tears and swatted Harry's arm. "You know very well you can't imagine your life without Jamie. How is he?"

"He's well. First birthday's coming soon."

"Will you be having a party?"

"No. Ginny wants it to be just the three of us. Just a quiet evening with our son."

"That's good. Why throw a party when he can't remember it?"

"Actually, why throw a party when his godparents can't even be in the same room."

"Oh, I'm so sorry."

"Don't be. We'll all do something when this whole thing passes."

"Definitely." She couldn't help but add 'if it passes,' to herself.

"Well, I'd better go. I'm sure Ginny has had just about enough of him by now and I better get home to help her out."

"Harry, what about my wand?"

"Not yet. They won't release it, yet. I'm sorry."

"It's okay. You're doing your best."

"Alright. Well, please let me know if anything develops. Also, just let me know if I'm going to jail."

"I'll arrest you myself," he replied with a grin. "Oh! Here This is for you."

He pulled a letter from his cloak and handed it to her. "He wouldn't let me leave without writing you back. Night."

She wished Harry goodnight, gave him another hug, saw him off and hastily sat down and unfolded the letter.

_Dear Hermione,_

_I'm feeling better, but I'd feel better if I could see you. I know you didn't mean what happened. I knew instantly that you weren't in your right mind. You never have to worry about me forgiving you. I will always forgive you._

_I wish you would have trusted me enough to tell me when this started happening to you. Even if you thought it was the horcrux in the first place, you should have said something. Especially now that this…thing brought it to this._

_Look, I'm going to try and see you. It may cost me my job, but I have to see you. Harry says he's going to work on getting the Ministry to let you leave your flat, but they may still limit you. You should know that my parents are researching this whole thing. Percy's putting extra hours in at work to get some answers and even your parents mentioned that they would be looking around. This must be something really bad, because your mum mentioned a visit with someone called a victor or vikor…something. He sounds important._

_Anyway try to keep yourself together and get some rest. I'm okay now and we are going to get through this._

_I love you._

_Ron_

_Ps – don't worry about what the Prophet says._

Hermione put the letter down with unsteady hands. The Vicar? It had been years since Hermione had been to her family's church. Her parents had taken her to the local Anglican Church when she was younger, before going to Hogwarts. They claimed that they wanted her to have some sort of spiritual foundation even if she didn't continue on with it as an adult. Was this horror, the spiritual sort? Based in something deeper than magic? Was this a case where the clergy had to be involved? She went to her desk to find her the telephone sitting on it with a note attached.

_I told them that you only phone your mum and dad  
and there was no need to remove it.  
You're welcome.  
-H_

"Thank you Harry."

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After a half hour on the phone with her mum, Hermione placed the phone back down on the receiver. Her mother explained to her that she had called the Vicar for some spiritual advice. Through a series of white lies, her mum was able to weave a convincing story about a friend feeling oppressed by an unseen force. The Vicar explained the power of prayer, but offered little else in terms of solutions. Not that Hermione had expected any solutions, honestly.

She couldn't help but feel numb at this moment. The silence of the flat was closing in on her and the loneliness she was feeling threatened to consume her. Even though they lived apart, Hermione had only slept alone a handful of times since she finished at Hogwarts. She'd spent every night with Ron and she hadn't seen him in 5 days now. The last time she'd seen him being a time she'd rather forget.

Dusting off the radio her father had given to her; she turned it on and found a classical station that would fill the deafening silence. The low music brought her some ease, but she still found herself looking over her shoulder, constantly investigating every creak and groan she heard. She easily dismissed most sounds as neighbors, but she couldn't shake that feeling that made the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end. It was all around her. And it was watching her. She quickly showered and put on a set of pajamas and settled into her cold bed for what was sure to be a restless night.

For the first time since she was 5 years old, clever, logical, rational Hermione Granger slept with the lights on.

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"_Why are you here?"_

"_Um, I came to see you. What's with you?"_

"_Get out of here. You can't scare me anymore."_

"_Scare you? Hermione, where is your head right now. I brought you dinner, I came to see you. Ease up."_

_Raising her wand, she pointed it at him. Her breathing coming out in shaky rasps. _

"_Hermione? What are you doing?"_

"_I said get out."_

"_Hermione…this stopped being funny a long time ago."_

"_I swear to you. I will kill you. Leave. Now."_

_Producing his wand from the holster on his wrist, he kept it pointed down, albeit prepared to defend himself. _

"_I will ask you only once more. Leave."_

"_Hermione. No."_

"_LEAVE!"_

"_Not happening."_

"_Avada Kedavra."_

"_NO!"_

_A flash of green shot from her wand, hitting an unseen wall and seeming to shrink to nothing. She looked up to meet his gaze only to see a streak of red._

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_*tap tap tap tap*_

Hermione sat up, her nightmare still playing itself in her head. Trying to pull herself back to reality the tapping continued. Shaking the clouds from her head, she glanced at her window, the source of the tapping. On the other side of the glass, two owls were perched. One she didn't recognize, clearly carrying the days "Daily Prophet." The other, a statuesque eagle owl that she definitely recognized.

The retrieved the paper from the first owl, paying it and sending it off. The other glared at her, bearing a small letter. She untied the letter from the owl and clicking its beak, it set off back to its home. She opened the letter, holding her breath, not believing what it said.

"_Answer your door.  
60 seconds.  
-D. Malfoy"_

She pulled on her robe, clutched the newspaper to her chest and heard a light knock at her front door. Walking to it, she spoke through the wood.

"What do you want?"

"We need to talk, Granger."

"Not a chance. I'm unarmed."

"Well, lucky me. I happen to be armed and the word is that you are the dangerous one here."

She cracked the door open and peering through it, she eyed him suspiciously.

"How am I dangerous?"

"Open up, Granger." He pushed past her into the flat. "What's that smell?"

"My floor was cleaned. Chemicals. Nasty muggle stuff. Now, how am I dangerous?"

"I wasn't referring to the chemicals. I was referring to the nasty muggle…stuff. Did you just wake up?"

He stood before her, eyeing her as though she were an ant. Hermione relished in the thought that there was at least one thing that hasn't changed. Noticing the day's paper clutched in her arms, he quickly snatched it from her, unrolling it and proudly displaying the front page to her.

**Hermione Granger Snaps**

Snatching the paper back from him, she quickly read the article. It was an empty, soulless article, but it got the point across. She'd had a mental breakdown and tried to kill her boyfriend. Pure blood aristocrats and Death Eater sympathizers were calling for her arrest. Minister Shacklebolt promised a full investigation, but clearly stated that she was not going to be arrested until there was enough evidence to indicate she was in her right mind during the incident.

"No picture. Well, an old one, but I wish they'd taken one of you being rolled into the nutter bin."

"What are you here for? I may not have a wand, but I do recall being able to take you down without a weapon."

"I think I know what's happening."

"You have no idea what I'm going through. Just get out, Draco."

"I used to think you could do better than Weaslebee, but it turns out, I owe him a serious apology. Suit yourself Granger, you want to stay crazy, stay crazy. I only bore witness to dark magic, soul bargaining and demon summoning, but what do I know?"

"You know what this is? You know about this?"

"Of course, I do, Granger. My aunt practiced the darkest of magic. It's no surprise that something crawled out of the hole she and the others opened."

"How do you know? What evidence do you have?"

"It's a theory for the most part. An acquaintance of mine works with the aurors. A secretary. Potter and your boyfriend have been researching behind your back. Your personality changes, your nightmares, your paranoia, everything. He's been pulling files, asking questions and taking notes. He locked in on various accounts of attachment, oppression and possession."

"Possession?"

"Yes. I know about it all too well. I mean, I haven't witnessed it first hand, but I've seen its effects. Nasty stuff."

"Clothes, I need clothes. Excuse me."

"I'll be right here."

She turned to make her way into her bedroom. Stopping on her way and turning to Draco.

"Seal the room." He pulled out his wand as she shut her door. She didn't trust him, but she was desperate for answers. Changing into a simple jeans and cotton shirt ensemble, she emerged from her room to find Draco seated on her couch, reading through the rest of the Daily Prophet.

"Tea?"

"Please. One sugar."

She stood over her sink as the kettle boiled. She closed her eyes, battling with herself over whether or not to talk with Draco about this matter, or just to throw him out. She couldn't stand him, he made her miserable at school, was a complete coward and his presence made her skin crawl, but he knew dark magic. In her heart she knew it was a mistake to throw him out without hearing what he had to say.

She prepared the tea and emerged from the kitchen with to two hot cups of tea only to find him levitating an otter figurine that Ron had given her three Christmases ago. He walked around the delicate glass figure, examining it.

"Ron gave me that."

"Nice. Expensive. Weaslebee has fine taste for a country bloke."

"Put it down."

Releasing it, the crystal and glass figurine plummeted down as though it would crash into pieces on the table, but just before landing it stopped and lowered gently to its place. Draco smirked as the look of panic that was surely etched onto her features.

"You bastard. You unimaginable bastard. You have tormented me from the very beginning, and you just keep going. My life is in shambles and you're making of game of it." She was beyond caring as hot tears streamed from her eyes. "If you plan to help me, you will do so and you will do it with civility or else you can just…get the fuck out! You have watched people suffer. You saw your classmates die for a cause that even you questioned and you still play with people like we're worms on hooks. This isn't a game, Draco, this is my life. It may mean nothing to you, but it is all I have."

"You finished?"

She nodded, wiping her eyes with her hands.

"Good. I am here to help you. And I did question the cause that my family supported. I admit that I watched people die and did nothing. But I am not here to play with you. My family is in shambles. I know what it's like to be played with, believe me, I do. In case you've forgotten, I was the worm on a hook! And since I owe you, your boyfriend and Potter my life, I will help you."

"Thank you." She handed him his tea. "One sugar, correct?"

"Just the one."

"Tell me. You're aunt, Bellatrix, she summoned?"

"Did she? Shadows, legions, kings, djinn…she summoned. And she paid."

"She seemed to have been doing well. That monster was practically invincible."

"She paid with everything. Her mind, her body. I saw pictures of her when she was younger. When she was at Hogwarts. God, she was beautiful. Really beautiful. But she became devoted to the Dark Lord and he was loveless in every way. That, you know. But here's what you don't know. My mother was the one who impressed Lord Voldemort, so my aunt offered up more. She summoned more. And she lost more. My mother says that she became barren first, then her looks faded and finally her mind went."

"She knew what she was losing and she still did it? For the love of a shell of a man who would never return her love?"

"She was fucked up like that."

"So something she summoned could be attached? She opened a door and something she released could be attached…to me? How? Why me?"

"These things don't discriminate, they don't care. They destroy, it's all they do. It picked you and you have to take it down. And there is no way, you're going to put it back in its hole alone. You simply can't do it. You're a bit too…lily white."

"Draco, what are you saying?"

"I'm saying you'll need my help completely. I'm in this completely. Your books are no good. Flourishing your wand? No good. Things won't make sense anymore. You have a fight on your hands." He drained the cup of tea and stood. "I'll leave you to your thoughts. And this."

From his cloak he pulled out a small book. The cover had no writing.

"This is a book of incantations and rituals. Study it. But do not read aloud from it. Just study it."

"Anything else?"

"Yeah, tell your boyfriend."

"And Harry?"

"Don't worry about telling Potter. How do you think I came here? Alone? My deal and my compensation have been negotiated."

"What's next?"

"We call it. We bring it to you. See you soon, Granger." On his way out, he stopped and placed something wrapped in cloth on the small table by her door. "That's my first move. I'm on your side. This time."

Rushing to the door, she locked it securely and picked up the cloth he left. Unwrapping it, she gasped, completely flabbergasted.

It was her wand. 10¾" vine wood, with a dragon heartstring core. The one she purchased when she was twelve. The one she loved and lost to the Snatchers who took her to Malfoy Manor.

Draco Malfoy had returned her wand. There was a note.

"_I'm sorry I didn't tell you.  
Trust him for now.  
He can help. You asked me  
to trust you. Now trust me.  
We're watching him.  
-H"_

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_Coming up:_

_She laid there, her ears ringing, her vision producing spots and bursts. _

_He retreated to the kitchen taking a moment to regroup. 'She tried to kill me. She fucking tried to kill me!'_

_She stood on shaky legs. Fingers tightly grasping her wand. Her wand. Bellatrix. 'This was her wand. It was so easy. So easy to cast that killing curse. My wand could barely push out a patronus, but I can kill with this.'_

"_I asked you to leave, Ron. Now you'll be carried out."_

_His back was pressed against the wall. She was up and threatening him. He'd stunned her and she was back up. He used a verbal spell the first time. Having been focused on pronunciation, any spell or curse is naturally weaker. He purposely cast a verbal for that purpose. Non-verbals came from within. They came from the heart and were by nature far stronger. He could also cast a volley of curses and end this. _

"_Hermione. I don't want to hurt-" A streak of green raced by his head. _

**And we're done with this chapter. Reviews are welcome. Love!**


	6. Control

**Four Months. Four. Months. I am so so sorry. Please forgive me. **

**I had an outline to this story, which I lost and that all but killed everything. I am essentially flying dry right now, but I will continue to do my best.**

**Also, I have to say. I effing hate the summer. My brain does NOT work during the summer. Now that it's winding down, I'm feeling creative and inspired again.**

**Again, I hope you can forgive me for my absence. It was unacceptable and I hope that you all enjoy this chapter.**

**I do not own the people or places in the Harry Potter Universe.**

**On with it!**

Hermione Granger had always had control. She had been able to control the many things that added chaos to the lives of young women her age. She not only had to deal with the constant horror that surrounded her life, simply due to her association with Harry Potter, but she kept remarkable control over her emotions which were always in flux, thanks to her association with Ron Weasley. Neither Harry nor Ron were particularly complex individuals. She always had a quiet understanding of Harry and while their bond wasn't instantaneous, it was nearly unbreakable once it was formed. Ron was quite possibly the simplest person she knew. It wasn't a negative thing, by any means. Ron was simply…Ron. There was nothing else. There wasn't a lack of depth or character. Ron had plenty of layers. He was who he was and there was nothing more to say. Ron's simplicity was one of his many attributes that she had fallen in love with.

It was her understanding of them that helped her keep control regarding Harry and Ron. With Harry, she knew that she had to stay as strong as she possibly could. Breaking down was not an option; Harry needed strength in his life and she did her part to provide it. With Ron she knew that she had wanted to be with him. She was only twelve when her gazes began to linger on his face, admiring him; his striking hair color, his freckles, the gentle pout in his lips, his slightly crooked smile. As a grown woman, Hermione now understood their rows. Ron tested her and pushed her to the breaking point. Not out of cruelty, but instead as a means of helping her release steam. If she wasn't angry at him, she may have broken down from the stress that came with being Hermione Granger.

Logical, brilliant, reliable, clever, and in control. Those were Hermione's attributes and she was under pressure from the start. Ron tested that control with everything he had.

For the first time in her life, that control was gone. She found herself at the mercy of a malevolent force, bent on destroying her life, simply for the pleasure of it. This force had hidden itself behind Ron's face, the face of a man that she trusted and loved more deeply than anyone she had ever known. This force left her living in fear of him. She never knew when she was with Ron or in the presence of this dark creature that had been fooling her for the last six years.

After the defeat of Voldemort, she allowed her logical mind to dismiss the visits as the result of too much work, stress and sleepless nights. In fact, when she was happiest, it seemed to stay away completely. She was lulled into a false sense of security, she supposed, completely convinced, as was everyone, that there was no more evil in the world. It made sense, after all, seeing as Harry had done away with a being as dark as Voldemort, they were all convinced that things just couldn't possibly get as worse as they had been during that time.

However, she was now being made to understand, that even having been so corrupted and so filled with dark magic, at the end of the day, Voldemort was but a man. He was a sick, sad man, with no love or regard for anyone, save himself…if he even ever loved himself at all. He harnessed a darkness that had taken from him the handsome face he once possessed and by the time he met his end, his sanity and grip with reality had been all but gone. The same had happened to Bellatrix Lestrange, the person that Hermione began to suspect was most responsible for her current ordeal.

It had fooled her at every available opportunity. Using Ron's outline to leer at her through the steam during a shower. Using Ron's face to appear behind her in the mirror when she prepared for work in the mornings. Using his voice to call to her in the dead of night while she slept, knowing full well that he was out on a raid, miles away from her.

It had even begun to series of outright assaults, the most notable being during a particularly intense evening that they were together. It was an exceptionally warm night and there was little to do between two people living alone when it was entirely too hot for clothes and lights. Things had started off pleasantly enough, however in time, his kisses became vicious little nips on her sensitive skin, his playful fingertips sank into her flesh, sure to bruise and by the time he'd roughly pinned her arms above her head, she knew she was in trouble. Fighting back, she eventually found herself rolling, naked in a pile of sheets, struggling to regain her strength and find her voice. In the end she had found herself nude, bruised, and nearly violated. As for Ron, he had been fast asleep in front of the desk in the living room. He was going over a case that was to go to trial. He had been called to testify, as he had been among the first at the crime scene. He heard her struggling and came into the room to check on her. He denied entering the room and waking her for sex only moments earlier. He would have teased her for having a "naughty dream" had she not shown him the bruises that corroborated her story. Up until that night, Ron had dismissed her experiences as a figment of her traumatized imagination. He had vivid nightmares himself, and simply thought that Hermione was just having the same. Now that he'd seen evidence of the assault for himself, he refused to leave her alone for too long if he could help it. For a short while, Ron's presence and his support seemed to keep it away from her, relegating it to dark corners and hidden spaces. She knew it wasn't gone, but rather waiting for Ron to back off.

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Following his visit, Draco Malfoy had sent her another book and a dozen pages of notes that he himself had made. It should be noted that reading through his notes had made Hermione admire Draco. Under normal circumstances, she imagined that Draco would have been someone she respected very much. Perhaps he could have been someone she had fancied. He was an exceptional student. His penmanship was beautiful. His notes were impeccable. He was organized, thorough and incredibly well spoken. While writing a quick note of thanks to him, Hermione had mused to herself, "_if there were no Ron Weasley, I might have liked Draco Malfoy…that and if he weren't such a bigot._"

She folded the note and placed it on the mantle of her fireplace. When Harry came by, she would give it to him to send off to Draco. She'd send the note off herself, but she felt better using Harry as her messenger. She didn't quite feel so alone with him involved in every part of her life.

She had not spent a night alone since Malfoy's first visit. While preparing for bed, she was overcome by the feeling of someone watching her and she had sent and owl to Harry. He was over within a half hour and for the remainder of the week, he'd been sleeping on her couch. Hermione felt horrible, of course. He should have been at home with his wife and son, not camped out in her living room. She begged him to pull even more strings and perhaps see to it that Ron could spend the night with her instead, but Harry had called in enough favors and the Ministry would not budge on this matter. Since their "fight," she and Ron were not allowed in each other's presence. However, Hermione did not budge either and finally sent a letter to Kingsley pleading her case. She insisted that having Ron with her was the first step in fighting back. She'd promised Kingsley that if he allowed her and Ron to see one another, she would tell him anything he wanted to know.

She'd hoped Kingsley would respond by morning, but there was nothing. She'd grown increasingly restless with the fact that she was essentially imprisoned in her own home. She'd walked to the supermarket the morning after Draco left and noticed that she was being tailed by Abel Mercer. Sparing him the awkwardness of following her, she'd backtracked and asked him to simply accompany her. They walked and talked and he helped her carry her bags to her flat. Leaving the bags in her entrance, he turned down a cup of tea and returned to his post in front of her building. She wasn't able to get him to tell her what exactly it was he was protecting her from outside of her flat. _"You are aware the problem is inside right?" _He simply smiled sympathetically, told her to be safe and walked away.

Closing her door and leaning on it, she took a few calming breaths. She needed answers, she needed stimulation. She needed her boyfriend.

"Granger."

Yelping in surprise, Hermione jumped to attention only to find Draco seated on her couch. Wearing his customary black on black ensemble, he sat cross legged waiting for her. He looked bored as ever and smirked at her reaction to him.

"Scared you, did I?"

"Draco, from now on you must write before coming here. And I have to let you in; you can't just come and go as you please. This is inappropriate. You know it is."

"You think I just apparated in here? Into a flat, protected by the Ministry? Now that you're insane, I suppose your common sense would be the next to go."

"Drop dead, Malfoy."

"Potter let me in. He's busy tonight and you need company apparently. And since I have no life, no friends and no autonomy, here I am. Shall I undress?"

"Please. Spare me. I can hardly keep down a full meal; I don't want to vomit up the rest."

Walking to her bookshelf, Hermione pulled out a small stationary set and began writing.

"What are you doing?"

"Writing to Harry. You are not staying here tonight. I'd rather play Exploding Snap with Mr. Thing."

"Mr. Thing?"

"I know naming it is the worst idea, but I'm not about to call it 'Other Ron.'"

"You have no choice. I'm your company tonight. And judging from the temperature of your flat, I'd say 'Mr. Thing' is the last company you'd want. But go on and write him. I'll just sit here. I've got nothing else to do."

Noting the bitter cold in the air, she gulped. Tonight would be a bad night to be alone. It was here and it would give her no peace. Attaching the note to Horus, the brown owl that the Weasleys had given her as a Christmas present, Hermione offered Malfoy a glass of water and excused herself so that she could unload her shopping. Of course, Malfoy was right and within fifteen minutes her letter to Harry had gone out and he'd sent a short response.

"Sorry 'Mione,  
I'm too busy pulling strings. You're just  
going to have to be inconvenienced if  
you want to get what you've been asking  
for.

Kill me in the morning,  
Harry"

Looking up from the note, Hermione locked eyes with Malfoy, who simply smirked at her and raised his eyebrows. Sighing, she resigned herself to her current situation and plastered on a smile, "do you like frozen pizza?"

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She ate out of necessity. Her appetite was nonexistent and being in Malfoy's presence had left her seated on pins and needles. Initially, she wanted to do nothing more than fling the melted cheese of her pizza onto her aristocratic houseguest in response to his grating comments on how embarrassing it was that he was eating "Muggle foods" to save his family. However, within an hour, both she and Malfoy grew to accept that tonight was not going to change. They had to tolerate each other.

"So…how long have you known about…Mr. Thing?"

"Since Seventh Year, when Harry, Ron and I were in hiding. I thought it was all part of the Horcrux, but when it was destroyed, he…it…seemed to linger. I don't know what caused this. I mean, I understand that it was random and I know it was all part of the risk of handling something as dangerous as a horcrux, but part of me still can't believe that this happened. All we did was dream of peace. How nice it all would be when this was over. When Voldemort was gone. And it just continues. It doesn't seem to stop."

Seated on her couch, Hermione pulled her legs up and rested her head on her knees. Using the sleeves of the jumper Ron had given her, she wiped at the hot tears that slid down her cheeks. Under normal circumstances, whatever those were, she would never have imagined crying in front of Draco Malfoy, but she didn't care anymore. She was much too tired to care.

Malfoy was seated on an armchair across from her couch; he leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "You know, when all you want is power, the consequences don't matter. I'm not completely clear of the exact mechanics of making a horcrux, but I do know that summoning guarantees that it would work. If it _seemed_ to come from the horcrux that you travelled with, then that's where it came from. I personally don't think that its origin is even close to being as important as simply getting rid of it."

"But when is it simply going to be too much? I barely had a childhood. My life has been a battle since I met Harry and I don't regret meeting him, or fighting for him, but I'm so tired. I'm just so tired." She buried her face into her knees, now completely embarrassed to be crying in front of Malfoy.

Glancing up at Malfoy, she detected the slightest hint of sympathy behind his eyes. "What happened with you and Weasley? What really happened? Everyone's talking about how you're wasting your time in your department when you should have been an Auror. You managed to best Weasley, who as far as I've heard has really benefitted from all of his training."

"No. I didn't best him. If he had been facing anyone and I mean ANYONE else, he'd have killed them. He took so many hits because he didn't want to hurt me. But trust me, he beat me. My back still hurts. Sometimes my left ear rings. And I'm still sore all over."

"Do you remember it? What happened?"

Closing her eyes, ignoring the biting cold of her flat and brushing off the nagging sense that It was watching, just outside of the living room, just a few yards from her, Hermione began to tell Draco about the day that she'd dreaded would happen since that confrontation in the Chamber of Secrets. The day that she had tried so hard to avoid. She didn't want to talk about it because It was still here and she knew It would relish hearing the story. Hermione Granger had no choice but to swallow the bile rising in her throat and revisit the day that she tried to kill Ron Weasley.

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The Night, The Fight - 2004

Nightmares, visitations, scratching, biting, choking. Hermione had endured it all. That morning was the final straw. She had awakened from a restless sleep only to find Ron lying beside her, watching her sleep. When she'd fully woken up, Ron began to question her incessantly about what was happening to her. Eventually it had turned into an argument, with Ron dressing and going off to work. She felt horrible. Ron was being patient, but she was coming apart and he was helpless. Even though he was an Auror, he had no right to force her to talk about what was happening to her. He suffered, watching her skin grow paler ever day, she developed dark circles under her eyes and she began to visibly lose weight.

Hermione's heart broke when she thought back to the night she showed up on Ron's doorstep, cold and dripping wet during a thunderstorm. They'd had a massive blow out earlier that evening and she angrily threw him out of her flat. Her sadness and anger fueled the darkness that rode on her shoulders and It began its assault, whispering curses and vile threats from every corner. Grabbing only her wand, she escaped from her flat and ran out into the rain. She needed to get to Ron. She needed to go where it was warm and quiet. She was testing his patience lately and as she ran through the rain, she prayed that he had enough forgiveness in his heart to take her in. More than anything, she needed his love, even after pushing him away, she still needed his love. She'd asked him in a small voice to allow her to stay with him that night. He let her in; alarmed that she would even ask and drew a hot bath for her. Later that night, she clung to him like a small child as she slept, her small frame trembling lightly. Before drifting off she heard him whisper, "Please, just tell me what's wrong," his voice thick with emotion.

Shaking the unpleasant memory to the back of her mind she took a shower and readied herself for a long day at work. She steeled herself against the knocks on the walls and bathroom door. She attempted to ignore the uncanny sound of breathing in the room. She even refused to acknowledge the cold bursts of air she periodically felt against her skin as she bathed. Her thoughts drifted to the days when she sat up in bed as a small child, petrified at the creaks she heard around the house. Her mum had told her that the house was simply settling and all she need do was ignore the annoying sounds. She became an expert at ignoring annoyances and carried on throughout life. She ignored the little girls who teased her for her bushy hair; she ignored Malfoy's taunts and Ron's grating comments. She'd even expertly ignored Harry's incessant brooding and soldiered forward.

Stepping out of the shower and wrapping her body in a towel, she walked to the mirror and gingerly wiped the steam from the glass. Lately, she'd grown to abhor her own reflection. She didn't consider herself a great beauty, but she certainly wasn't bad looking, but lately, "bad" was exactly how one would describe her appearance. There was no color in her cheeks. Her eyes were becoming hollow sockets and her hair hung limp and dull. She had even taken to wearing concealing foundation on her face to even her coloring. Make up usually was not a necessity for her, mostly because Ron hated it and honestly thought she was beautiful without it, but these days she found herself caking her face with it in order to keep Ron or anyone else from asking her questions.

Glancing up at her reflection, Hermione let out a small gasp and stepped back. Regaining her composure she leaned forward, inspecting what was looking back at her. Her own eyes, no longer brown, were blacked out, shiny, endless, empty and staring back at her. Raising a trembling hand to her face, she wordlessly inspected the image that stared back at her. Dropping her hand and gripping the sink, the clamped her eyes shut and gulped down a few mouthfuls of air. It was everywhere. All around her. She thought of the years of terror. The initial horrors that accompanied the horcrux, the nightmares filled with blood and cries and death, the hallucinations all created for the sole purpose of making her fearful of Ron. She thought of the threats and taunts constantly thrown in her direction and the ultimate threat, that if she wanted this pain to stop, she'd have to kill Ron. She'd have to kill her rock, her love; she'd have to kill her future.

Knowing full well that it would be a bad idea to bait this thing, she simply didn't care. Quietly preparing for her day at work and the evening she would spend in the Ministry archive searching for any case that matched hers, she decided she'd had enough. If It wanted her, it could come and get her. She didn't care anymore. She'd fight with everything she had left, but she wouldn't be a victim any longer. Grabbing her purse and her wand she stopped at her front door, she stopped and addressed the air around her.

"If you want me. Come and get me."

With that, she walked out of her flat.

Hours later, she sat alone in the Ministry archives. Files, folders, books, loose papers, and glowing orbs surrounded her. She'd found vague references to her own ordeal, but there was nothing that she could access that gave her any real answers. She'd have to ask for special permission to view the restricted and classified files, but that would require telling the Archivist and Minister Shacklebolt what was happening to her. She simply wasn't prepared to do that. Since enrolling in Hogwarts, she learned that anything is possible and nothing is too insane, but she just wasn't ready to share this.

Peering out the small window along a far wall, Hermione noted that it was growing late. The sun hung low in the sky and it would be dark in less than an hour. No one sat in the archive with her as she combed through the files in front of her. She stopped for another brief moment to admire her wand. She hated the thing. It had belonged to Bellatrix Lestrange and it was all she had after being tortured in Malfoy Manor. At first it was alien to her, but she found its strength comforting. Oftentimes Ron tried to talk her into going to Ollivander's and getting a new one and getting rid of this curved monstrosity for good. He'd shake his head incredulously when she told him that somehow, she'd grown attached to it. It was a trophy now. Proof that Bellatrix was dead.

She snapped to attention when she heard footsteps approaching the room she was in. It was the first time she heard walking about out there, and she was fully expecting whoever it was out there to walk by, seeing as no one really knew she was in here. It was much to her surprise that the footsteps seemed to be getting closer, eventually stopping at the door. When the door opened, she was surprised to see Ron come through the threshold, smiling sweetly.

"Hey, what are you still doing here?"

Smiling back, she answered, "Hey, yourself. I just wanted to do some research on something before leaving. I was going to come and see you when I was all finished up here."

"No need. I'm here now." He lifted some of the papers on the table surrounding her, his curiosity piqued. "What are you looking at here?"

"Oh, a case my department landed. Just getting some background info."

"Hm. Why sneak around? Why not ask?"

"Sneak around?"

"You didn't tell anyone you were here. One would assume that you were sneaking around."

"I just wanted to do this quietly."

"Ah. That's interesting because it looks to me like you're sneaking around. Almost like you don't want anyone to know what you were looking for."

Hermione's stomach clenched nervously. He regarded her like she was one of his interrogations. Ron was pacing the small room slowly, placing himself between her and the door. "Well, in any event, I'd figured I'd come and help you. Make your work a bit easier."

"Oh, Ron there's no need for that. I can pack myself up and come home with you. It would be nice to have a quiet night."

"But, you told me to come get you."

Without a word Hermione jumped from her seat, backing herself up against the wall, her desperate mind racing and searching for a way out of the room. Her tormentor, having heard her challenge and wearing Ron's face stood before her. His eyes full black and features menacing. He stood before her as a predator would stand before its trapped prey, "You said that if I wanted you, I had to come and get you. Now, those weren't words spoken in anger were they?"

"Stupefy!" The red light shot from her wand and sent him against the opposite wall. She dashed for the door only to crash down face first onto the room's marble floor. She cried out in surprise as she felt hands around her ankles pulling her away from the door. Fighting and kicking with all of her might, she felt him straddling her and reaching for her arms. Her wand clattered toward the door, out of her reach as she struggled to get away.

Flipping her over onto her back, she could feel him pressing his weight upon her in an effort to keep her still. She had no idea what he was going to do to her in this moment, but her memory pulled on a bit of research she had been doing in recent weeks. Drawing upon her reading into the field of the demonic, something she had been denying for far too long, she remembered bits and pieces of the incantations and rituals performed to banish these evil spirits. In this one moment of desperation, Hermione decided to make an attempt to use the small amount she had learned.

"Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus, omnis satanica potestas-," he brought his closed fist down onto her face. Hermione cried out sharply, her vision going white with tiny black bursts in front of her eyes.

"You little bitch!" He attempted to pin her down, but he'd been slightly weakened by her short attempt to battle back. Capitalizing on this opening, Hermione brought her legs up and managed to kick him off of her. Scrambling to her feet she reached the door and picked up her wand and pointed it at his prone form. A wand was a conduit for energy and having one simply gave it greater focus to that energy. Drawing on her strength and ignoring the dull pain of her assaulted face, she held the wand steady and said it again, "Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus." Without staying to ensure that the encantation worked with the wand, she made a mad dash out of the door, with her tormentor's piercing cries behind her.

She could only hear her ragged breathing around her. She ran through the empty halls, her footfalls echoing around her, bouncing off of the marble columns that surrounded her. Her heart pounded, slamming so hard she thought it would burst from her chest.

'Have to get to the atrium. To the fireplace. Floo out. He'll be on my tail. I just need a few seconds.'

*pant, pant* She could hear footsteps behind her. *pant, pant* Running. *pant, pant* Gaining on her. *pant, pant* He wasn't winded.

She glanced back, her frantic breaths coming out in exhausted puffs. He was smiling. His delighted grin mocking her terror. She was running for her life, but to him, it was a game.

Rounding a corner, reaching the lifts, she threw herself in, unable to stop herself, she rammed against the wall inside the lift. She slammed the door shut, her fingers frantically pushing the button for the main floor. She'd heard the clicking and whirring of gears when he'd reached the lift. He'd slowed down to a walk, approaching her as she cowered in the corner, as far out of his reach as she could get. Flattening herself against the wall, she stared at him, brown eyes rounded in shock. He stood there watching her, blue eyes, cold and hard, trained on her. He hadn't broken a sweat; his breathing was even as he calmly surveyed her. His lips spread into a slow grin as the lift began to move back. As he shrunk from sight, she heard him utter one word.

"Tricky."

Now, mindlessly she exited at the Atrium and made her way to the fireplaces. There were very few people about and she managed to make it out of the Ministry without being noticed. Her use of a stunning spell would no doubt go noticed by the various wards, but she had no time to think of that. She needed to get home and regroup. Considering the possibility that It had beaten her home, she kept her wand ready for another confrontation.

Exiting her fireplace, she quickly removed herself from the floo network. She rationalized that she needed to close as many doors as she could. Kneeling in front of the now perfectly normal fireplace, her shoulders slumped. _"I could have asked for help,"_ she thought. Was her pride so great that she couldn't be completely honest with Ron OR Harry for that matter? They would have believed her in a heartbeat. She truly knew that. So why not say anything? She knew they wondered. She knew that Ron was scared for her.

"All I had to do was ask for help. But how could I? I barely even recognize my own reflection anymore."

"Help with what?" Hermione jumped at the sound of his voice. She jumped to her feet and turned to find Ron standing in the doorway to her kitchen.

Without preamble, she raised her wand and pointed it directly at Ron. "Get out."

"Yeah. That's not funny, 'Mione."

"Why are you here?"

"Um, I came to see you. What's with you?" His blue eyes widened. "Your nose's bleeding. What happened, Hermione?" He made a move to approach her but she didn't lower her wand. Defensively, Ron raised his arms to show her that he was not a threat.

"Get out of here. You can't scare me anymore."

"Scare you? Hermione, where is your head right now. I brought you dinner, I came to see you. Ease up." He took another step forward. "Baby, what's happening to you?"

Her breathing coming out in shaky rasps. Question. Ask the question, her mind barked. Ask the question that only Ron could answer.

"What story did I tell you when we searched for my parents? The story that I didn't tell to anyone else?"

Nodding his head, he calmly provided the answer. "You told me of your mum's miscarriage when you were nine years old. It was late in the pregnancy. It was a boy. Joseph. Your mum couldn't have anymore after that."

Under normal circumstances, she would have believed what she'd heard, but these circumstances were hardly normal. It could have known that. It was the dark passenger she carried for years, after all. He could have known everything there was to know. She kept her wand raised.

"Hermione? What are you doing?"

"I said get out."

"Hermione…this stopped being funny a long time ago. It's me. You know it's me. Now lower your wand."

"I swear to you. I will kill you. Leave. Now."

Producing his wand from the holster on his wrist, he kept it pointed down, albeit prepared to defend himself.

"I will ask you only once more. Leave."

"Hermione. No."

"LEAVE!"

"Not happening."

"Avada Kedavra."

"NO!"

A flash of green shot from her wand, hitting an unseen wall and seeming to shrink to nothing. She looked up to meet his gaze only to see a streak of red. Slamming directly into her chest, the curse sent Hermione flying back against the mantle of her fireplace, picture frames and a snow globe from Australia hitting the wooden floor along with her body. Glass shattered around her. Slowly crawling to her feet, she surveyed the empty space where Ron once stood. _"You have to kill him."_

"Hermione! Listen to me! I'm not trying to hurt you."

Silently eyeing the kitchen door, she now knew where he had retreated to. Blasting the Reductor curse, she blew her kitchen door to splinters. If there was one thing she liked about this wand, it was its power. This wand was able to cause devastation with the simplest of curses. He had been thrown back by the resulting blast. Regaining his bearings, he composed himself in time to dodge another Killing Curse she fired at him. She heard him yell, "Stupefy," and tried to move away but she was hit again, blown onto her back.

She laid there, her ears ringing, her vision producing spots and bursts.

He retreated to the kitchen taking a moment to regroup. 'She tried to kill me. She fucking tried to kill me!'

She stood on shaky legs. Fingers tightly grasping her wand. Her wand. Bellatrix. 'This was her wand. It was so easy. So easy to cast that killing curse. My wand could barely push out a patronus, but I can kill with this.'

"I asked you to leave, Ron. Now you'll be carried out."

His back was pressed against the wall. She was up and threatening him. He'd stunned her and she was back up. He used a verbal spell the first time. Having been focused on pronunciation, any spell or curse is naturally weaker. He purposely cast a verbal for that purpose. Non-verbals came from within. They came from the heart and were by nature far stronger. He could also cast a volley of curses and end this.

"Hermione. I don't want to hurt-" A streak of green raced by his head.

With all his might he lunged out of the kitchen a silently fired a volley of three stunning spells, as she fired some of her own at him. While only one of her curses hit him, all three of his hit her, throwing her into the air and against the mirror hanging upon the wall. As he fell back, slamming his head on the ground, she crumbled to the ground, covered in glass and blood in a lifeless heap. She opened her eyes in time to see a spectral dog, a Jack Russell terrier, scamper out through her closed front door. Ron's patronus. Ron. No dark entity could form a patronus could they? It had to be Ron. She tried to move her aching body, but her energy was spent. She had nothing left.

He wasn't moving.

_I've killed him._

Distant footsteps echoed in the room. The breeze of an open door. Cloaked figures swept into the room. One of them stood over her. The figure bent down. Panic set in.

"Nooooo…" She felt a gentle hand on her head. Drifting out of consciousness, she was able to make out the identity of the figure kneeling over her. His black hair. His green eyes.

His frightened voice.

"Hermione. What happened? What did you do?"

RHR RHR RHR RHR RHR RHR RHR RHR RHR RHR RHR RHR RHR RHR RHR RHR RHR RHR RHR RHR RHR RHR

_Coming Up:_

"_Harry may be grateful for your little lie, but I will never thank you. My best friend is alive and I'm happy about that. Believe me, I am. But, fuck you. Fuck you and your shit family. Fuck you and your beliefs and your preservation of magical blood. You may think you were brave, going in there, grabbing your boy and running with your tail between your legs. You may think you did something great but that doesn't erase the shit you and yours put us through. To me, you and your son will always be pieces of shit!"_

**Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed/understood it. I dunno LOL! Reviews are welcome. Be constructive and mature. Save the drama for Facebook! :) **


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